


Moon, 12:04am

by katzengefluster



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: M/M, also pre-romance kinda fluff, just some romantic fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2018-11-12 20:17:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11169309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katzengefluster/pseuds/katzengefluster
Summary: They won't always be idols, but Hanbin hopes they'll always be together.





	1. Moon, 12:04am

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably end up being a series of short one-shots based on songs. This first one is inspired by the ridiculously dreamy "Moon, 12:04am" by offonoff that you should all go and check out. It's my new Double B theme song. ♥

The air is cold but Hanbin feels warmer than he’s felt in a while, like he’s caught in some kind of thermal, wings spread out to catch the heat as it lifts him up into the clouds. He contemplates making the comparison to Bobby, but he doesn’t know if he’ll get it. Maybe it’s a little too poetic? Hanbin’s been on a poetry binge lately, to the point that sometimes he gets thoughts in his head, romantic lines he wants to speak, but he’s not sure if they’re his or someone else’s.  
  
Not that it matters, because Bobby hasn’t been around much lately with his conflicting schedule, and whenever he has been here usually the others have been around too, and by the time Hanbin finally goes to sleep Bobby’s already been out for an hour at least, exhaustion granting him earlier nights than usual. Hanbin can’t bring himself to be disappointed, because Bobby’s been pulling double duty, promoting in Korea only to fly back to continue their Japanese promotions.   
  
Hanbin remembers what it’s like to fly that often, thinks back to their debut period. Hopping on and off planes all the time, rushing to make events. It’s a shitty way to spend your time, but they made do then, because at least they were together.   
  
It’s been weird watching Bobby go, and then watching him come back. Hanbin always wants to tell him how much he’s missed him, but he feels like maybe that’ll just make things worse.   
  
Tonight was the first night in a while that Bobby was still awake when Hanbin got back to their hotel room, and he wondered if Bobby had been waiting for him. Their eyes met briefly, as if in question, but before Hanbin could say anything Bobby was up and off the bed.   
  
“Wanna go for a walk?”   
  
Hanbin was surprised by the request, and even though all he really wanted to do was go to sleep, he agreed without question.   
  
Now they’re together, strolling the quiet streets of Osaka, just the two of them. They haven’t been alone like this in ages, and Hanbin can’t believe how alive he feels. Sometimes you don’t realize how oppressive everything in your life is until you’re out from under its thumb.   
  
It’s not that he’s unhappy with idol life. It has its ups and downs, and he’s experienced both. But he’s certain that there’s so much in life that he’s missing, constantly cooped up in a studio, working himself until he’s got nothing left. Those are the nights when he forgets to look up at the stars on his way home (if there are even any left in the sky at that point) when he pulls the covers on his bed up and over his face and pretends that he doesn’t wake up an hour later when his members wake up.   
  
It’s like he’s got some weird internal clock that operates on group-time even when it conflicts with Hanbin-time. His own fault for finding inspiration in the twilight hours, so he can’t even be mad. They try to be quiet when they know he’s still sleeping, but there are six of them, and quiet only lasts for so long.   
  
He’s been existing like that for the past year, struggling to find time that works for him around their schedules. It’s been a never ending series of concerts, and as great as those are, as nice as it is to know that they can tour right away, it leaves him feeling anxious.   
  
This is no way to attract new fans. They all know it, even if none of them say it.   
  
“I can hear you thinking,” Bobby says, and Hanbin doesn’t have to look at him to see his expression, “no bad thoughts, you promised.”   
  
Hanbin grins and shakes his head. “Sorry, it caught me off guard.”   
  
“I think your brain needs a vacation,” Bobby teases, and even though the hour is late and no one’s around, Bobby’s fingers brush over his hand but they don’t take it. They can never be too careful.   
  
“My brain wouldn’t know what to do on vacation,” Hanbin jokes, and as sad as it is, they both know it’s true. Hanbin just can’t ever switch himself off, he’s been existing in a constant state of work for so long.   
  
“That’s why your brain needs to go on vacation with me,” Bobby replies, and Hanbin would love nothing more than some secret vacation with Bobby. Somewhere far away, other side of the world far away. Somewhere in the Caribbean, maybe? With crystal clear water and schools of fish. Bobby can go snorkeling, and Hanbin can lie in the sand and let the waves roll up and over his toes. Bobby will probably try to catch a fish bare handed, and when he does he’ll come back up out of the water and throw it on a peacefully dozing Hanbin.   
  
Hanbin can’t stop the laugh before it bubbles up and out of his mouth.   
  
“It’s rude to not share jokes, Bin!” Bobby scolds him, walks closer until their shoulders are touching.   
  
“You probably wouldn’t find it funny,” Hanbin teases back, “one of those jokes that’s only funny when you’re there for it.”   
  
“Oh yeah? And where was I when you heard this joke?” Bobby asks.   
  
“You were part of it,” Hanbin replies, “you were actually the catalyst.”   
  
Bobby sighs and Hanbin wishes they were in the Caribbean right now so he could kiss him. “Would you quit talking in riddles?”   
  
“I was just fantasizing about our Caribbean vacation,” Hanbin starts to explain, and he laughs again when Bobby gives him an exasperated look.   
  
“When did we book a Caribbean vacation?”   
  
“Just now.”   
  
Bobby’s silent for a moment, and Hanbin can’t stop smiling at him. Bobby finally shakes his head and looks up at the sky. “You could have put it in my phone, at least. Rude, Hanbin.”   
  
Hanbin brushes up close to him again and lets his fingers trail lightly over the skin of Bobby’s inner arm. “Mm, you’re right, I’m sorry. I’ll text you the details.”   
  
Bobby laughs even though Hanbin knows that he doesn’t actually find the situation funny. It doesn’t matter, though. Bobby always laughs when Hanbin’s laughing, even if he doesn’t get the joke.   
  
They pass the next few minutes in silence and Hanbin already feels like the past few weeks have been reset, all the nights he’s fallen asleep by himself, missing Bobby’s warm body and his ridiculously cute sleep talking. Too many mornings he’s been woken up by the ringing of his phone’s alarm instead of Bobby’s lips on his forehead.   
  
But it’s okay. Nights like this make everything okay.   
  
They get to the end of the street and they’re at Minami-Temma Park. Hanbin hasn’t even realized where they’ve been going, he’s just been happy to be _out_ , but Bobby always seems to be drawn to the water, no matter where they are. It’s quiet and deserted by the O River.   
  
It’s perfect.   
  
They sit down on one of the benches and that’s when, finally for the first time that night, Bobby reaches for Hanbin’s hand and laces their fingers together. This is okay, because even if someone walks up behind them, their hands are hidden by the back of the bench. But no one’s around.   
  
They can sit and look up at the sky, they can look at the lights reflected in the water of the river, and everything feels right in this moment. It’s all worth it, somehow, everything they’ve ever lost, and everything they’re not able to have.   
  
Hanbin feels like he’s floating in a thermal updraft again, wings spread out to catch the gust. Bobby’s hand is the anchor, though. Not that birds go around anchoring themselves. The leash, maybe? Or the tether? Tether probably works better in this situation, even though the word still sounds a little more restrictive as far as Hanbin is concerned. Anchor really is the most suitable word for Bobby.   
  
Maybe he shouldn’t be thinking of himself like a bird, then. Maybe he’s like the ship that’s tattooed on his shoulder blade. Anchor works well with the ship analogy.   
  
“You’re thinking out loud again,” Bobby chides softly, and Hanbin is grateful for those fingers because he feels like he’s floating right now, the night’s so perfect.   
  
“Are you still thinking about our Caribbean vacation?” Bobby asks, and Hanbin laughs, which makes Bobby laugh, and Hanbin looks at him and thinks that Bobby is probably brighter than any star up in the sky right now.   
  
“Nope, that trip is over.”   
  
Bobby pouts. “Already? I feel like I barely got to hear anything about it.”   
  
“Sorry, hyung, I don’t make the rules.”   
  
It’s a stupid comment but Hanbin grins at it, waiting, because any second now--   
  
Bobby laughs even though it’s not funny.   
  
Hanbin’s never felt more in love.   
  
They slide closer together out of instinct, until their shoulders and knees are touching and there’s no space in between them for their hands, so those wind up in Bobby’s lap, his thumb brushing over Hanbin’s palm.   
  
If they were anywhere else in the world, Hanbin would kiss him right now.   
  
It’s frustrating, if he thinks about it too much, so instead he thinks about the bird again, thinks about the thermal, about spreading wings and flying high.   
  
One of these days he’ll have to take Bobby with him when he soars on that updraft. Maybe if they go on that elusive vacation together, just the two of them. Hanbin could almost cry at the thought of spending every second together, but alone. Kissing in public, walking down the street holding hands. Arguing over who’s going to pay the bill. Wearing each other’s clothes, but still matching their outfits.   
  
There’s so much they’re missing out on.   
  
But they’re together, and that’s enough for Hanbin. It won’t always be enough, and they both know it. But it’s enough _now,_ and that’s all that matters on nights like this.   
  
They won’t always be idols, but Hanbin hopes they’ll always be together.


	2. In My Blue Basement Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-WIN depression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sitting on this piece for nearly a year, occasionally changing words here and there. I feel like it's finally time to post it.
> 
> It's based off of Jeebanoff's "Sungbook-gu Kids" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3kUVsebV70U). It feels like a trainee theme song. Contains a few lines of the translated lyrics.

_Every day I listen to the Billboard charts_  
_In my blue basement room_  
_I look at the world that was hidden away_  
_And think—”What if that were me?”  
_

* * *

 

Is it ever going to come for him?  
  
That thing he’s been chasing for years, he got so close to it, achingly close, and foolishly he believed, he thought--  
  
_Yes, this is mine, it’s all mine, and no one is going to stand in my way!_  
  
But someone had stood in his way, multiple people (five in particular, and over half the viewing public)--  
  
Foolish. Nothing more than a childish dream, a selfish expectation that all he had to do was work hard. When had hard work ever been enough, though? That’s truly what stings the most. He’d worked so hard--they’d all worked so hard (but no one had worked harder than him) and it hadn’t been enough.  
  
Would it ever be enough?  
  
His thoughts are interrupted by the training room door opening, and Bobby’s head peeks inside. “Ah, there you are, I’ve been looking for you.” Bobby slides into the room and closes the door behind himself, standing still as he surveys Hanbin.  
  
He’s been worried about Hanbin ever since the show ended (they’ve all been worried). Hanbin’s always been focused, as far back as Bobby can remember, he’s always been the one who corrals them into practice and keeps them going. Any time any of them have expressed worry or concern, Hanbin has always been the first one to speak up and say, with all certainty, that things will work out.  
  
He hasn’t been saying much since the show ended, though. It’s like he’s been walking around in a cloud, in a perpetual state of confusion. He’s distracted when they train, distracted when they eat, always distracted. Bobby and Jinhwan have been talking, trying to figure out what they should do, but they can’t even come to an agreement. Bobby thinks Hanbin needs to talk to a professional, but Jinhwan thinks all he needs is time (Bobby knows that mental health is a touchy subject in Korea, but he can’t stop bringing it up no matter how much it upsets Jinhwan, because he’s worried).  
  
He’s been looking for Hanbin tonight because they’d all made plans to go out for dinner together (nothing special, just burgers) but Hanbin hadn’t shown up. Jinhwan had tried calling him, and then Junhoe, but Hanbin didn’t answer any of their calls.  
  
But he had answered Bobby’s text. Bobby had asked him if he was still coming for burgers, and Hanbin had just replied with a simple _‘no’_ that had felt like a crushing blow to the stomach.  
  
They’d played rock, paper, scissors and in the end Bobby had been the one tasked with going to look for him. Just as well, Bobby figures, since he’s the only one Hanbin had answered. Maybe he’s the only one who would find him and get him to talk?  
  
“How come you’re skipping out on burgers?” Bobby asks, because the question is a bit lighter than what he wants to ask. But they’re not quite ready for that topic yet.  
  
“I’m not hungry.” Hanbin stands by the mirror and refuses to look at him.  
  
Bobby frowns, doesn’t know quite what to do with the answer. This isn’t just about food, and Hanbin knows that. “You don’t have to eat if you’re not hungry, but we still want you there.”  
  
Hanbin doesn’t answer, just leans against the mirror and stares at his own reflection.  
  
Bobby wonders what will happen if he drags him out of the room. He’s strong enough to do it. “Hanbin-ah? Can you please come with me? I’ll carry you if I have to.” Bobby tries to joke with him, even though he knows it probably sounds fake.  
  
But Hanbin stiffens suddenly at the words, raises his head to look at Bobby in the mirror. Bobby’s not sure what about the sentence caught Hanbin, but he waits for a sign, waits for something.  
  
“Was it me? Was I the problem?”  
  
Hanbin’s words are softly spoken and Bobby doesn’t know how to answer (isn’t even really sure of the question). They’re at a standoff—Hanbin’s still staring at him in the mirror, and Bobby’s too confused to react.  
  
“Was I too hard? Maybe.” Hanbin drops his gaze again.  
  
Bobby wants to drag him out of the training centre and drop him on Jinhwan’s lap (mostly figuratively, but Hanbin could probably use a hug or two, so he thinks it literally as well) because he doesn’t really know how to talk to this Hanbin. Bobby’s never been good with this sort of thing, he’s a direct person who doesn’t dress up his words. There’s never any guess work with him.  
  
Hanbin is like that the majority of the time, but sometimes, like right now, he’s one giant riddle. Bobby’s always been shit at solving riddles.  
  
“Hanbin, really, can you please come and have dinner with us? Everyone’s getting worried about you.” Bobby hates to do it, doesn’t want to _guilt_ Hanbin into doing anything, but appealing to him in any other way doesn’t seem to be working.  
  
“I’m fine.”  
  
Bobby’s breath huffs out in an irritated puff of air. “You’re _not_ fine. You don’t have to pretend, everyone can see it.” Bobby waits for Hanbin to say something back, but he’s met with thick silence. Hanbin’s got no words for Bobby right now. “Come on, you’ve always been the one holding us together, don’t break on us now. We need you, okay?”  
  
“For what?” Hanbin finally answers, but it’s bitter and hostile and it takes Bobby by surprise. “What’s the point? We lost. Nothing will happen any time soon, if at all.”  
  
Bobby’s restless, he’s not good with this stuff, he wants to text Jinhwan and beg him to come and sort this out. Jinhwan’s so much better with this than Bobby is. But Hanbin didn’t answer Jinhwan. He answered Bobby. So Bobby has to try. “You don’t know that, Hanbin. I mean, we have fans now—”  
  
“Not enough of them.” Hanbin’s interruption is tinged with bitterness.  
  
“You can’t blame them. Look at what we were up against.” Bobby isn’t sure who Hanbin is blaming, but he feels protective of their fans anyway.  
  
Hanbin shakes his head and lets out a short but bitter laugh. “It doesn’t matter.”  
  
“It _does!”_ Bobby insists, because it’s something he’s overheard the others talking about. “I don’t just mean public recognition for the Seung hyungs, Hanbin. The public loves a good sob story, and they had two. Jinwoo hyung and his dad was bad enough, but the whole _I’m getting old for an idol who hasn’t debuted yet_ angle right away, and then Minho hyung and his failed attempts at debut. Not to mention his friendship with Zico! That all counts, it all made a difference.” Junhoe has been saying it often enough, almost like a daily mantra to explain away the loss. It’s not an excuse, he says, it’s just a reason.  
  
“Of course it made a difference. That’s why I’m so angry!” Hanbin pushes away from the mirror and paces, wants to say things that he shouldn’t be saying in company space. Cameras are everywhere, and who knows what might drift on the breeze up to the top level? Hanbin thinks he’d relish the opportunity to be called in for a private meeting. He wants to yell. Wants to be angry.  
  
Bobby waits for him to go on, waits like his whole life depends on it. Maybe it does.  
  
“Don’t you just find it _convenient_ that right from the start, on the very first episode, Jinwoo hyung got his story out there? Like they needed some kind of tear-jerker connection to them? Everyone on their team got great focus and in depth story lines, and with the exception of you, we didn’t. All I got was _‘here’s B.I, the second coming of G Dragon!’_ They struggled from the first episode, and we were presented as the perfect dongsaeng, nipping at their heels, waiting to shove them off the cliff so we could prosper.”  
  
“Hanbin--”  
  
“Everyone cheers for the underdog, Bobby, but nobody loves the perfectionist.”  
  
Bobby waits again, like he knows that Hanbin isn’t finished. And he’s not.  
  
“It’s like the whole fucking show was made just to debut them. Wasn’t it? Do you think I’m wrong?”  
  
Bobby isn’t sure what to say because the thought had never crossed his mind. But now, when he hears it? No. It doesn’t matter, anyway. What’s done is done.  
  
All they can do now is figure out how to dig themselves out of the hole.  
  
Hanbin has more to say, undeterred by Bobby’s silence. “What’s the point of working hard? What’s the point of making a good impression on everyone? It wasn’t good enough to win. It won’t ever be good enough.”  
  
“Don’t say that--”  
  
“It’s true, there’s no harm in admitting the truth.” Hanbin stops pacing again, stands in the middle of the room and looks around. “Nothing is ever good enough in this business; no one is ever good enough to make a difference.”  
  
Bobby almost doesn’t believe that the words come from Hanbin, they’re so unlike him. He approaches him and reaches for him, finally compelled to offer at least a bit of protection. “Hanbin, listen to me,” Bobby reaches out with shaky fingers, because it’s unsettling to hear Hanbin sound like this, defeated and uncertain, “you _are_ good enough for this. You were _made_ for this.”  
  
Hanbin’s answer surprises him.  
  
“I know. Of course I am.”  
  
Bobby looks at him with confusion, thrown for a loop. Hanbin’s contradicting himself. Unless Bobby didn’t understand him in the first place? Hanbin pulls out of his grasp and starts pacing again.  
  
“I’m good enough, you’re good enough, we’re _all_ good enough.” Hanbin stops for a moment, his eyes boring a hole into Bobby’s head “You know what stings the most? What makes me the angriest?”  
  
Bobby waits, again, feels like he’s always done nothing except wait.  
  
“It’s not just that we were good enough. We were _better._ We were better than the hyungs, the whole run of the show, we were better, but that didn’t matter. How am I supposed to be okay with that? Please tell me.” His tone takes a turn that Bobby doesn’t expect, the harsh and angry edge replaced with an uncertain hitch.  
  
“Please, tell me how I can be okay with that?”  
  
Bobby’s back in front of him, his hands in Hanbin’s death grip, like he’s being dragged under by his own demons and only Bobby can pull him out.  
  
Bobby’s always been shit at helping, though. He needs Jinhwan here for this.  
  
“I don’t know, Bin,” he can’t even fake it, but maybe what Hanbin needs is the truth, “I honestly don’t know. You just have to let it go.” Hanbin shakes his head at the words and there’s a frantic fear in his eyes now, to the point that Bobby finds it nearly terrifying.  
  
“What if I can’t let it go? What if I tell you that I wake up every night, _every night,_ and I remember exactly how I felt when we lost? I can’t breathe; I have to go to the bathroom and run the water so Junhoe doesn’t hear me crying. How do I do this?”  
  
Bobby still doesn’t know what to say. Hanbin’s never broken down in front of him before, only Jinhwan has seen him this low (probably not even this low, because Hanbin isn’t a crier, and he doesn’t share his concerns freely). But there must be a reason why Hanbin’s doing it now in front of him. Looking for something Jinhwan can’t give him?  
  
“You just have to, Hanbin. We need you. You’re our leader, and if we don’t have you, we have nothing. I know that’s not fair to you, but, that’s how it is.”  
  
Hanbin’s shaking in front of him, and Bobby can’t do anything except stare. Usually he’s good at comforting the others when they’re upset, he plays the role of supportive hyung well. But he can’t do it with Hanbin. Can’t bring himself to be the rock that Hanbin needs. Hanbin has always been his own rock, hell he’s been Bobby’s rock at times too. How is he supposed to be the one supporting Hanbin? He can barely support himself.  
  
“You all have me, but who do I have?” Hanbin chokes on the words and tears come the next second and it’s all Bobby can do to just stand there and let him cry. Hanbin’s tears soak into his shirt until the fabric clings to Bobby’s shoulder, but all he can do is pat Hanbin’s back and feel useless because he can’t help him like this. He’s used to talking Hanbin down from angry outbursts, not holding him through a barrage of tears.  
  
This isn’t Hanbin.  
  
It hits Bobby like a ton of bricks, and somehow that makes it easier on him.  
  
_This isn’t Hanbin._  
  
“I think you just need time, Hanbin. It sucks, and I know it’s a shitty answer, but you just need time. I know you, right?” Bobby cups his cheeks again, his thumbs brushing the tears away, and Hanbin looks at him like a dying man. Bobby knows what to say this time. “This isn’t you, right now. It’s not you, Bin. You’ve had bad things happen before, and this isn’t how you deal with them.”  
  
“Then who is it?” Hanbin asks, and Bobby doesn’t know if he’s actually going to make anything better or not, but Hanbin likes facts, he likes to understand things. He doesn’t understand himself right now, and that’s his problem.  
  
“Not who, Bin, but what.”  
  
“I don’t follow.” Hanbin looks as lost as Bobby knows he feels, and it’s a look that seems so strange on him, it’s a look he’s not meant to wear.  
  
“Depression. You’re depressed. I mean you have every reason to be, but it makes you act differently, and it’s okay.” Hanbin’s eyes get a wild look to them again but Bobby doesn’t let him go this time. “I don’t mean that in the way you think. I mean, it’s _okay_ that you’re depressed, it doesn’t make you weak or anything. You’re sad, and I think you’re just going to be sad for a while. There isn’t some fast way to get over it. You just have to let yourself be sad. It’s bad right now, but it won’t always be.”  
  
“But I don’t know how to be sad,” Hanbin answers, and the words break Bobby’s heart a little in their honesty, “I don’t know how to do this.”  
  
“No one does. You just have to learn along the way.” Bobby rubs his thumbs over Hanbin’s cheeks again. “It’s like you said. Maybe the truth is that we weren’t ever supposed to win. This show wasn’t for us, it was for the hyungs. That doesn’t make it any easier, but it just means that our time is still coming. We need you to prepare for that time. No one can save all of us except for you. So head up, Kim Hanbin, you’re meant for greater things than this. We still have a war coming, and every army needs its general. That’s you.”  
  
Hanbin doesn’t answer right away, just stares at him for a moment in silence. There’s something different in his eyes when he answers, though, and Bobby wonders if he’s said the right thing after all?  
  
“That was so lame. You’re terrible at this, I should have gone to Jinan.”  
  
But Bobby knows he doesn’t mean it. He can feel it in the way that Hanbin hugs him. The panic is gone, he doesn’t feel like he’s clinging to Bobby for his very life anymore. The worst of it is over, for now, at least.  
  
“Can we go for burgers with the others now?” Bobby asks him, because it feels like they just need to move on. Hanbin nods, and Bobby ruffles a hand through Hanbin’s hair. “Are you actually going to eat?”  
  
Hanbin nods again and smiles. “I will. Kinda feeling hungry now for the first time in days.”  
  
Bobby believes him and he’s relieved to hear it. He pulls Hanbin in tight for a hug, and Hanbin’s arms are tight around his back. Bobby’s not sure what about the moment feels different, he can’t quite put a finger on it, but he kisses Hanbin’s cheek and speaks into his ear.  
  
“I love you, Bin. We’ll get through this.”  
  
Hanbin doesn’t reply right away, he just buries his face into the crook of Bobby’s neck and they wait it out together, like Hanbin just needs one final moment.  
  
“Don’t tell the others about this, okay? Not even Jinan.”  
  
Bobby doesn’t answer right away, because it’s a tough promise to make.  
  
“I promise I’m okay, Jiwon,” Hanbin pulls back with just enough time to lock eyes together, “I just needed to say it all, I think. I just had to get it out.”  
  
Bobby nods, because that’s probably true. “I won’t say anything. But just make me a promise, okay? Promise me that you won’t let it get like this again? If it starts hurting and it’s too much, don’t hide. Talk to me, or Jinan, or whoever. Don’t be alone.”  
  
Hanbin nods and he promises, and Bobby trusts him.  
  
“Let’s go get burgers? I’m fucking starving.”

* * *

 _Even if every night is a nightmare_ _  
_ _Stay next to me and look on_


End file.
